(no subject)

Anger rides a foaming horse,
Injustice is his lash,
Carrion future sings it's empty song
Of wind among the ruins,
Dust against the sun
To many, the short sighted money makers,
Arguing over profits and power for the day,
While children watch,
With deadened eyes,
As hope and heaven slip away.
Why was it they cared more for words and interpretation
Than what was infecting us all,
Why was it easier to worry aboutlong dead demands
Than to see the moon coughing away its dreams.
We were to be stewards and better for coming generations,
Instead we held on to greed and hate
And offered them
Excuses and bottom lines.